


What Brings Us Together

by allourheroes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-08
Updated: 2011-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-25 20:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allourheroes/pseuds/allourheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck really hoped it wasn't some sort of demon spawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Brings Us Together

**Author's Note:**

> I promised this to Alejandra (catstiel) what seems like ages ago.

Chuck startled himself awake. It must’ve been a dream. Not a premonition. No, couldn’t be. He didn’t know _why_ he would be dreaming about his stomach swelling up with a fucking _baby_ inside of it. No. It was a dream. A dream that felt an awful lot like every vision he’d ever had, but--he tugged up the hem of his boxers to check and yes, still a penis down there--that was _ridiculous_. He reached for the bottle of whiskey next to the couch.

He hesitated and instead reached for the phone--better safe than having a horribly painful miscarriage now that he knew there might be something in there. The phone rang for much longer than he thought he could stand before he was met with a groggy, “Chuck?”

“Yeah, hey, Sam,” Chuck started, rubbing at his bleary eyes, “could you, uh, could you come over?”

“Is everything okay?” Sam sounded worried and, yeah, Chuck kind of liked having someone to worry about him.

The prophet groped the floor for his glasses, “Um, yeah, well, I don’t know, just come over.” He didn’t find them.

“Uh, okay,” and with that, Sam was gone from the line.

Chuck tucked his phone into his robe pocket and tried to figure out what could have possibly lead them here. Was it him? Was it Sam? He thought back. Maybe it was all that demon blood… He shook his head and sat up, straightening his green robe--as if that was all he needed to do in order to be presentable for company.

He really hoped he wasn’t having some sort of demon baby.

Chuck’s hand paused midway through scratching his beard as the sound of fluttering wings filled the room and Team Free Will appeared. He enjoyed calling them that, but only in his head because it still weirded them out when he talked too intimately about their lives. He had even managed not to say anything about how Dean and Castiel had been secretly fucking every chance they got--poor, out of the loop Sam, waiting for hours for his brother to return from picking up food.

“Dude, stop staring, it’s creepy,” Dean scolded as he walked to Chuck’s refrigerator, grabbing himself and, Chuck was mentally rolling his eyes, _Castiel_ a beer. The angel had watched his every movement--Sam had to be seriously naive not to think something was going on. Chuck, though, he liked _Sam_. He really did. Sure, he didn’t know if he _loved_ him and it was pretty damn awkward that he was going have to tell him that they’d somehow conceived a child, but, hey, with their lifestyle, they couldn’t be all that shocked.

Sam was looking at him with big, concerned eyes, arms crossed over his chest in pseudo masculinity. Not that Sam wasn’t masculine--he certainly could take charge in the bedroom (or, usually, Chuck’s table)--but he was also very touchy-feely. Yeah, he’d probably feel obligated to stay with someone he, for instance, knocked up. It almost made Chuck not want to tell him, but, at the same time, he didn’t know if there _was_ a way for him to get rid of the baby nor if he should since it could be some sort of crazy miracle. Or evolution and he was a mutant, like the X-Men. Chuck lost himself in the fantasy until he felt large, strong hands pulling his own from his lap.

“What’s going on?” Sam sat on the coffee table across from him, the rough pads of his thumbs rubbing back and forth over the skin of the prophet’s hands. Chuck could make out Dean behind his brother, making gagging noises while the angel looked utterly baffled.

“Um,” he paused, gathering up the strength to tell someone who saw the unexplainable every day something that even they probably wouldn’t understand, “could we speak in private?”

Sam tilted his head back towards Dean and Castiel--his brother taking the hint and nudging Castiel, heading towards Chuck’s bedroom, which Chuck was rather suspicious of, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

“Sam.” He sighed. His life would never be normal. “I, um, I like your shirt.” The taller Winchester looked at him skeptically, awaiting a real problem. “And, well, I don’t know if you guys have ever heard of something like this, but…” Sam was listening intently, eyes fastened on Chuck’s. “So, I think I’m pregnant.” He chuckled nervously, squeezing Sam’s fingers between his own.

Sam laughed, “Really though, what is it?” His smile stayed, but he was still just waiting.

“That’s it,” Chuck reiterated. “Although I’m hoping it’s not some sort of demon spawn. How long does that stuff stay in you, anyway?” He tried to let it come out as a joke, but that more he considered the possibility, the more it concerned.

The frown on Sam’s face hadn’t been the reaction Chuck had been hoping for, although, honestly, what was he supposed to expect? He was a dude with another’s dude’s baby growing inside of him, that didn’t happen very often.

“Chuck…what do you mean you’re…pregnant?” The Winchester’s words were slow and cautious, carefully enunciating each syllable. There was a concerned confusion in his face now, probably wondering if Chuck had finally lost it.

“I had a dream,” Chuck started and Sam opened his mouth, “well, not really a dream, but a vision.”

“…That said you were pregnant?” One eyebrow raised.

“Well, not so much said as showed. I mean, my stomach was huge, man. And there was this weird thumping--kicking, I guess.” His hand strayed unconsciously from his sometimes-lover’s to his stomach, scratching gently, rubbing and pressing his fingertips to it.

Sam’s now free hand wiped down his face, “And you’re sure it wasn’t something you ate?”

“I think I know the difference between visions and Chinese food hallucinations, Sam.” He started to glance down, but felt awkward, tilting his head so that his gaze could meet Sam’s.

“How do you know it’s…”

“Yours?” Chuck finished.

“Well, yeah.”

“Who else would impregnate me with a demon baby?” Panic set in full-force now. “Oh, god, it is a demon, isn’t it? There’s a demon growing inside of me and feeding on my life force. My vision didn’t go that far--what if it’s already controlling me? Oh, god, Sam. Why?”

The taller man was already sliding onto the couch next to him and wrapping his arms around the tiny prophet. “It’s going to be okay. I’m sure Cas can…figure out if there’s something in there--” Chuck tensed and he amended his statement, “ _what’s_ in there. I’m sure it’s human. I’m human. You’re human.” Chuck nodded, tears threatening to come.

“I’m not supposed to have to deal with this kind of stuff,” Chuck moaned and buried his head in Sam’s wide chest, feeling inconceivably small as he was encompassed by the cave of Sam’s arms. “I’m just a normal guy,” he tried to say, although having his face was pressed into Sam’s body and his words came out unintelligible.

Sam stroked his back and enough time passed with Chuck completely silent, that he pulled the man away from his own body, able to look him in the eye. “If, you know,” he gestured towards Chuck’s stomach, “I’ll help you if I can--when I can.” This was one of the most awkward moments in his life, having thought that when he had a kid, he would be married and maybe--just maybe--it would be with a woman. He really liked Chuck though, but he wasn’t sure if he loved him. Chuck made him feel closer to his fellow mankind again but with the added archangel protection. The word _protection_ earned an outward smirk, wondering if that had led him here in the first place, and if he had some sort of super sperm.

Chuck sighed and absentmindedly rubbed at his eyes, “I know, Sam.” He placed a hand on the Winchester’s knee, giving it a squeeze before using it to push himself up. “Now, let’s go check on your brother before I’m forced to not only block out my memory but change my sheets, too.”

“What?” Despite his confusion, Sam followed the prophet towards his bedroom, quickly catching up to the shorter man, “Chuck--” The scene he was met with was not what he was expecting, with Castiel straddling his brother’s lap on Chuck’s bed. “Guys?”

Dean had to push Castiel off of him as the angel saw no reason for embarrassment. “So, what’s the problem?” he asked as if his jeans weren’t visibly tented and there wasn’t an angel wobbling to his feet in front of him.

Sam wanted to be shocked, he really did, but, somehow this didn’t even phase him--oh, right, his _boyfriend_ was _pregnant_. “Look, whatever, Dean,” he dismissed as his brother wiped at his mouth--as if that would cover up the evidence. “Cas, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Of course, Sam,” Castiel replied, although still very visibly disheveled.

“Okay, so…” He ran a hand down his face, unsure if he was hoping to sound more or less crazy than he felt, “Chuck thinks he’s--Chuck’s…pregnant. We were hoping you could tell us what it was--um, what it is.” Dean started laughing, but he was cut off by Sam before he could say anything, “Dean, don’t--it could happen to you.” Despite the very large amount that Dean wanted to make fun of his brother’s situation, his mouth snapped closed and he seemed suddenly very serious. Sam assumed it was the whole interspecies deal--never knew what could happen.

The angel merely nodded and approached the prophet, extending his hand towards Chuck’s stomach. Chuck, however, backed up a step and brought his hand protectively over his stomach. “Don’t you think you should wash your hands first? I mean…” The three of them stared at him--Dean and Sam in a way that said he couldn’t possibly be serious while Castiel’s look was clearly that of confusion. “Alright, then,” he corrected himself and lifted his shirt up enough to expose his belly--which, yes, did seem a little _rounder_ than usual.

He found Castiel’s hand suspiciously warm as he pressed it to Chuck’s abdomen, but he was too scared of him to say anything. Oh, and that respect thing. And Chuck just wasn’t good at dealing with people--or whatever--whose teeth had once been stuck in his hair. He held his breath as Castiel nodded at Sam. “It seems to be a human fetus in its earlier stages of development,” he deadpanned. Chuck was flooded with feelings of relief, pushing his hand underneath Castiel’s lingering one to feel for himself.

It was exciting. In that really fucked up way that was becoming normal for his life.

And Sam…Sam was looking at him in that way that encompassed so much fear, but also a sort of awe. And he was looking at Chuck. With awe. Chuck just couldn’t get over it. He pulled at the hunter’s hand and they kissed, Sam’s arms wrapping around him like he was the most important thing in the universe.

“Gross,” Dean interrupted. “Get a room, guys.”

Sam’s lips left Chuck’s so that he could glare at his brother, glancing around Chuck’s bedroom so he didn’t have to verbally state the obvious.

“Oh, right,” Dean agreed. He headed for the door, dodging the couple as much as he possibly could.

“I believe congratulations is the human custom in these situations.” He paused, lips thinned in thought. “Congratulations,” he added, and with that he followed Dean.

Now that the two were alone, they sat down on the bed. Sam stayed quiet, so Chuck did, too--quite uncomfortably. It wasn’t that they weren’t comfortable with one another--well, _sometimes_ \--but rather their relationship had relied on a mutual need for someone who could be there for them, and Sam knew Chuck would always know if he was in danger. There was no guilt of leaving someone waiting--unsure if he was dead or alive until he came back--but an expectant smile and an everlasting offer of whiskey that Sam appreciated after a particularly nerve-wracking hunt.

Chuck was especially attached to Sam after having watched most of his life through visions--the struggle between good and evil had been fascinating. The first time he’d seen them kiss though, he had chugged down an extra glass of whatever the hell booze was closest. Sam was a guy. He was a guy. Sure, Dean and Castiel were both sort of guys and that was there own business, but Chuck wasn’t gay. He was sure of it.

Then, when Sam was there with him, and he had been so upset, Chuck had been able to say he knew why. The sympathetic shoulder he offered was met with amazement--someone that saw Sam’s life more completely than even his brother--and Chuck saw the innate goodness in Sam. He knew what had changed between them. That was the first time they kissed. An hour later was the first time they had drunkenly fucked on Chuck’s couch, which had since become a theme.

Chuck’s unconsciously groped along the side of the bed and pulled up a half-empty bottle of vodka, bringing it up to his lips without a second thought before Sam grabbed it from him.

“Hey, this isn’t how I thought things were going to go, but I don’t want you to drink it away.” Sam hesitated, his hand shaking as he placed it over Chuck’s stomach, “Someday, this’ll be our kid.” His own words caught up with him. “I…I never thought I’d have kids.” His fingers squeezed gently at the prophet’s stomach, sliding to his side as he pressed his forehead to Chuck’s temple.

“I know, Sam,” Chuck replied, sighing as his eyes fluttered closed. He was pretty sure going eight months without drinking might kill him, but it was nice to know that Sam was happy.

~

When Cas and Dean went to leave, Sam had asked to stay, just for a while.

The look the two had exchanged in response had made him somewhat uncomfortable, but anyway, they had agreed.

He’d now gone through a week of Chuck nearly breaking the bones in his hands during his visions. Chuck had been surprised by their decrease in frequency, but it was probably due to the fact that half of his “inspiration” barely left his side.

That, in itself, was a bit overbearing. To the point that he told Sam that Dean would be in grave danger were he not to go on the next few hunts with him. This had led to Sam stocking his fridge with vegetables and hiding away or dumping out every last bottle of alcohol first. Chuck had then made an inappropriate joke about dead babies which had been met with a very concerned look from Sam.

Things were actually going well for them though, even when Sam appeared in the middle of his living room without warning--he was a prophet, but it wasn’t like he knew _everything_. They spent a few months like this--with Sam driving over were he close enough or getting zapped in by Cas when he was too far.

Unfortunately, Becky had happened to stop by while Sam had been visiting once (and, subsequently, every time she knew he was there). Chuck was pretty sure she was writing fanfiction about them now. Yes, even him. He tried not to think about it too much.

But since they’d gone out, she knew his favorite kind of cookie and baby stuff she’d been sending him should come to be useful, so he put up with it. And maybe she rubbed his back when he had morning sickness--not that he’d ever admit it.

Today, thankfully, she was unaware of Sam’s presence. Which was especially fantastic considering their current situation.

The combination of both pregnancy and not being able to drink made Chuck angry and horny. It was a problem that he hadn’t really had to deal with before. Now, more than ever, he remembered how strong Sam was as he had yelled at him and attempted to leave--telling him that he didn’t want anything to do with any child of Sam’s--and Sam had grabbed him, eyes so full of worry. “Don’t say that,” the Winchester said as he attempted to calm him, his grip on Chuck’s wrist strong. Chuck was still upset, but damn, if he didn’t want to fuck now, too.

They hadn’t had sex since the beginning of his pregnancy, and now…Chuck was obvious. “Fuck it,” he mumbled as his hands flew to the fly of Sam’s jeans. Unfastening them as clumsily as was humanly possible.

Sam was shocked for a moment before he responded, his own hands pushing off Chuck’s robe and pulling off his no longer oversized T-shirt, nothing but a thin layer of cotton boxers left on the prophet. And two seconds later, Chuck was completely naked and half-erect.

Yeah, he was a little embarrassed, but damn, at least he was going to get what he wanted after all this time of Sam being too scared to touch him. Although Sam seemed obnoxiously tall when he still needed to get the hunter’s clothes off. “Can you--can you lean down, at least?” he asked in frustration as he tugged at Sam’s shirt.

The Winchester pulled off his own shirt with ease, allowing Chuck to work at his jeans, “Jesus, do these have a combination lock or something?” He began just tugging at the sides, pulling Sam’s boxers down with them. “Fucking finally,” he whispered as he got them past Sam’s thighs. He was going to fucking get what he wanted. He leaned up to crush his mouth to Sam’s, tongue intruding eagerly to meet with the Winchester’s, pushing him back and causing the hunter to topple backwards on the couch, legs trapped together by his only half-removed jeans.

“Chuck, what--” Sam tried, watching as the pregnant prophet straddled him and started digging between the cushions to pull out a small, nearing empty bottle of lube and pouring some into his hand. “Wait--” the Winchester gasped as Chuck slicked up the hunter’s cock.

“Fuck that,” he replied as he lifted his hips. “I might be a prophet of the lord with a fucking baby growing inside me, but I have needs, Sam.” He lowered himself down onto Sam’s dick, the slow burn coupling with a feeling of fullness he never knew he missed. He moaned loudly, the sensations he had been without for so long overwhelming him.

Sam grabbed his hips, “Chuck, I don't want to hurt you. I don’t want--”

“The baby’s fine, Sam. I, however, need to get _laid_.” He slowly raised himself up again before pushing back down. His hand drifted to his own cock and he started moving his hand in time with his slow thrusts onto Sam’s dick.

Biting his lip, Sam pushed himself up, taking Chuck with him--a strong arm under the other man’s ass as he moved them slowly towards Chuck’s bedroom. He made it only a few feet before the prophet’s back was pressed to a wall and he was trying not to crush his stomach while he fucked him, thrusting in a little faster than the rhythm Chuck had set.

“Fuck, Sam,” Chuck groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, his legs wrapped tightly around Sam’s waist.

“Just--just tell me if I’m hurting you,” the Winchester told him, still worried for the safety of their child.

The prophet tried to move himself but found Sam’s grip hard to get out of. “Yeah, yeah, but would you mind going faster? And, oh, yeah, harder? That’s be great.” He wiggled around a bit, trying to get more.

The hunter tried again for the bedroom, but ended up tripping on his jeans, and the two ended up on the floor with Sam carefully not crushing the smaller man. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, now fuck me.” He thrust his hips back onto the Winchester, who responded, although tentatively, by pushing into him as far as he could go, angling himself and, “Oh, fuck, Sam, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Chuck curled forward and reached for himself again, increasing in pace while Sam finally _fucked_ him.

The other man let go, pounding into Chuck as hard as he could, doing his best to ignore the circumstances and instead go by the feeling. It felt better than it ever had, like there was something more, like maybe--“Chuck,” he groaned, gaining speed as he pressed his lips sloppily to the prophet’s, biting gently at his jaw and neck. Sam’s arms looped under Chuck’s, gripping his shoulders, pulling his ass as close to him as possible, keeping careful distance between his abdomen and Chuck’s swollen belly, arching his back up.

Chuck was writhing underneath him in a way that Sam had never seen before, legs wrapped tight around the back of Sam’s. “Chuck, I,” the Winchester whispered between heaving breaths, Chuck’s cock yearning for friction up against him, he could feel the heat coiling in his stomach, and then Chuck stilled, hot stickiness covering the two of them, squeezing tight around Sam’s cock and sending him over the edge. “--Love you,” he managed, pumping into the smaller man a few last times before pushing himself up.

The prophet was staring at him, scruffy and wide-eyed--but sated. “Whoa, um…”

Sam backed onto his knees and brushed the hair out of his face, embarrassed. “I know we…we’ve got this weird thing here. But spending more time with you…I don’t know, I just--”

“It’s, it’s okay, Sam. Really. I…have very strong feelings for you, too.” Damn that kid, his eyes were welling up with tears at the sentiment. He reached his arms out towards his boyfriend--the fucking father of his child--who attempted to pull him up, but instead was pulled down next to him. Sam wasn’t going to try too hard though, he was too afraid of squishing the baby.

They just laid there on the floor, Sam curling around the currently sobbing and constantly apologizing prophet as the mess cooled on their stomachs. Then, Chuck went silent and the hunter examined his sleeping face. Sighing, he scooped him up into his arms and brought him to the bedroom, laying the smaller man down before joining him. He spooned Chuck, and his hand drifted from Chuck’s hip to his pregnant stomach. “I’m going to do everything for you, for both of you,” he whispered before slipping off to sleep, truly contented for the first time in a very long time.

~

Over the next three months, Sam barely left the house, but it was…comfortable now. Sam even made Chuck french toast, with Amaretto syrup--the only way Chuck Shurley was allowed booze. Chuck may or may not have licked it off the plate.

His visions had been easier lately. Maybe it was the presence of someone who really cared about him that made a difference. Or maybe Dean just wasn’t getting up to any non-horizontal excitement lately.

In fact, Dean and Castiel were over now. Even if it weren’t for the baby kicking in his now gigantic stomach, he was pretty sure the faces the two were making at each other as they held hands under the kitchen table across from him would’ve made him nauseous anyway.

“So, guys…” he tried, “any idea how this happened?”

Dean blinked for a second, “Uh…what?” Chuck gestured towards his stomach, where he had balanced a bowl of Cheerios. “Oh, um, Cas, got anything?”

“Perhaps it’s the second coming of Christ.” He spoke without any hint of emotion, but a small smile twitched at the corner of his lips and Dean slapped him on the knee, laughing.

Chuck was extremely not amused and turned to watch Sam as he washed the dishes, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he scrubbed. It was all very…domestic. He let out a sigh and then, “Ow, fuck.” Was that what too many feelings felt like?

No, that would be labor.

“Guys, guys, Sam!” he shouted, the reality of his situation setting in. How was he supposed to--how would the baby--how?

Sam rushed to his side in concern, “What is it?” He grabbed Chuck’s hand.

“Is this labor? Is this what labor feels like?” Chuck panicked, and he began to hyperventilate.

Two fingers pressed to his forward and everything went black.

When he woke up, Sam was beaming at him, holding a bundled up--”Oh.” He reached towards it, “Can I…?”

There it was. They had a _baby_. And he was not letting Sam go out on another hunt.

Okay, so maybe he didn’t really have a say in that, but, hey, he was a dad now.


End file.
